I Love The Way You Do That Thing
by ivorykeys09
Summary: It's the way he makes his cocoa. And the way she reads a book. Dan/Blair.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Thanks to Spiros.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gossip Girl or any of its characters.

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><p>It's the way he makes his cocoa.<p>

He's not like the rest of them. You know. The ones who use the the disgusting powder that contain ingredients that cause heart attacks and the amount of chocolate that equals a Hershey Kiss' tip. And who mix said powder into…_water._

No. Dan uses the real deal.

The pure-all natural-sweet-ground-chocolate _real deal_.

Ghirardelli _ground_ _chocolate_. Mixed into _milk_ warmed from the stove.

It usually ends with him cutting her off after three mugs because she's on a chocolate high.

**::**

It's the way she reads library books.

She's not like the rest of the them. You know. The ones who fold the triangle tips down after finishing the chapter or page or sentence or whatever they were reading before they were interrupted.

The ones who leave every page with a crease in it's corner.

No. Blair reads with courtesy.

She uses a bookmark, because she cares as much about how the book is made as what the book's about. She's the only person who returns the book in better condition than it was five lenders ago.

And he loves that about her, but he loves teasing her more.

It usually ends with him snatching the book out of her hands before she can place the bookmark or—god forbid—fold the corner, but she's laughing too hard to be mad at him.

**::**

It's the way he sleeps with his pillow.

Or, lack of pillow.

He's the only person she knows that refuses to use a pillow. It boggles her mind, because how can he just sleep on a flat mattress? She gets a neck ache just thinking about it. They both have a bed full of pillows, but he doesn't use them.

Not _one_ morning has he complained of a sore neck.

(She's pretty sure it's because of her expensive, luxurious Tempur-Pedic mattress that supports his pillow-less head.)

But she bites her tongue about forcing him to use one.

Because it usually ends with her waking up to him using her stomach as a pillow, pressing his lips to her skin. Or her thighs. Or her…_oh._

**::**

It's the way she plays the piano.

And no, Blair Waldorf does not _play_ the piano. She "plays" it.

Meaning, she sits on the bench and twiddles the keys and tries to play something that sounds somewhat harmonious.

(Her mouth is _trying_ not to smile while doing it.)

A quarter of the time, Dan joins her and tries to make the song sound a little better by adding his two hands.

But most of the time, it ends up with Dan begging her to _stop. playing. now._ And he'll kiss the pout off her face until _she's_ begging him to _take__. me. now._

**::**

It's the way he does the crossword puzzle.

Always _The New York Times._

And _always_ with a ballpoint pen.

He argues that it's because he never writes his answer until he _knows_ it's right, so what's the point of writing in pencil? It'll just smudge.

And so while he's completing it, and she's sitting beside him with her morning tea, she likes to look over his shoulder and watch.

It always ends with her saying _54 across is wrong._ And his breath hitches and he freezes in panic until he hears her giggling in his ear.

(By the third time, he knows she's teasing, but he plays along and lets her think otherwise.)

**::**

It's the way she always wears her seatbelt.

On the nights they go out, he usually makes them take the subway.

But on the rare (recurrent) occasion he gives in and flags a cab, the first thing she does is put on her seatbelt.

Tourists, residents, visitors. _No one_ uses a seatbelt in a taxicab but her.

It usually ends with them in a cab that doesn't have one, and he has to listen to Blair Waldorf lecture the driver on the safety and importance of seatbelts. (And a threat to call the company if the guy doesn't promise to install them.)

**::**

It's the way he doesn't wear a tie.

She's pretty sure he's the first person to even _think_ about not wearing a tie to Blair Waldorf's wedding. (Well, it's his wedding too.)

But she just avoids the subject, hoping her silence translates as disapproval of the idea. She hopes he catches on.

He doesn't, of course. And this time, she's happy about it.

Because it ends with her walking down the aisle to a tie-less man. His lean torso and whispers of chest hair peeking through. And she realizes the whole thing is totally Dan, and it makes her even happier that she's about to make a vow to him.

**::**

It's the way she twists her rings.

Her engagement and wedding rings. The ones he placed upon her finger.

Whenever she's bored or anxious or watching a movie or whenever her hands aren't busy, she'll twist them. At night when they're in bed, he can sometimes hear the little murmurs of silver and diamonds clinking together as they're rotating around her finger.

And she always smiles. As if she's relieved they're still there, and this isn't all a dream or a figment of her imagination.

It always ends with her curling her body against his; her head tucked against his; her heart beating against his; and she'll whisper _I love you._

**::**

It's the way he always says it back. Whether she's rushing out or he's running late, whenever she says it, he never fails to say it back.

_I love you._

And it ends with—

Wait.

No.

They never end.

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><p><strong>AN:** I would love to hear your thoughts. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I was inspired and decided to continue this. Why do I always change my mind about completed fics?**

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><p>It's the way she helps with dinner.<p>

Okay, so she doesn't really _help_ help with dinner. Dan does 99% of the cooking.

She sets the table, pours the wine, turns on the music, lowers the lights, and just watches him prepare the meal.

But some nights—the best nights—when he's cooking, she'll walk up behind him at the stove and wrap her arms around him, resting her head against his back for minutes at a time.

It's such a simple gesture, but he finds is oddly sexy. Like...she can't keep her hands off of him for the short time it takes to make dinner.

And this _is_ helpful.

Because it ends with him scratching a part of the meal, or keeping their conversation light and short on purpose because the faster they're done eating, the faster he can peel away her clothes and ravish her body.

**::**

It's the way he makes her lunch.

(On the days she _does_ bring lunch to work.)

It's quite ridiculous, really, because she's the Fashion Director of _Elle_ magazine and she shouldn't be brown-bagging it.

He brings her back to his roots. This is what's inside:

A half a sandwich (he makes sure to take off the crust), a small salad (he makes a smiley face out of the tomatoes), and a water bottle. It's both incredibly embarrassing and insanely romantic.

And so it usually ends with her counting down the minutes until her lunch hour, because he always leaves a note—written on her napkin, of course—that says something like: _Roses are red, Violets are blue, I don't want to spend a day of my life without you._

**::**

It's the way she buys all his books.

She seriously put in an order to buy 500 _Insides_ and had them shipped to their house.

It goes further than that, though. Every time they go in a bookstore, whether they're in Manhattan or outside of New York, she always buys a copy. When he asks her why, she simply replies, _Why wouldn't I?_

She gives them away to every guest who visits them; like party favors without the party.

But it always ends with him doing the same exact thing for her. He routinely buys every issue of _Elle_ that is published under her watch, and whenever she writes a special article or has an exclusive interview in an issue, he has it laminated and bound into an ever-growing book.

**::**

It's the way he warms her up.

Not just her heart...because _gosh_ he warms that up all the time.

But her hands and feet.

Each night, when they go to bed, her hands and feet get so cold, she can't fall asleep.

He flinches _every_ night when she touches her skin to his, the shock of it running straight up his body. A complaint is on his lips every time, but he never ever voices it.

It usually ends with him tucking her feet under his feet, curling her hands in his hands, and whispering things like _we should just buy you some gloves, baby, because I may be too hot to handle_ in his giggling wife's ear.

**::**

It's the way she tells him goodbye in the morning.

Every day they wake together, dress together, and eat together. When she's reading the paper, he'll steal the crossword; when she's out of coffee, she'll steal his own.

Most days, after he's stepped out of the shower all wet and partially covered with a towel and looking so irresistible she can barely see straight, she'll push him back on the bed and have her way with him.

He's so fucking sexy she debates quitting her job—just so she can stay home with him.

So it usually ends with her saying _I'll see you at four _(or five, or three, or another specific time); because if she just says _I'll see you later_, "later" sounds much too far away, and she doesn't think she'll make it through the day.

**::**

It's the way he pulls the sheets back.

They usually go to bed together every night.

(She would feel guilty for rousing him to warm her up after he'd already fallen asleep.)

But every so often—on the days he stays up late writing—the next day he's so exhausted he can barely make it past dinner.

Even when he retires early, he never fails to pull the comforter back for her—a gesture that never fails to make her smile.

So it always ends with her going to bed earlier than planned, because his folding-back-of-the-covers is an invitation she can never seem to pass up. And, well, she just misses him.

**::**

It's the way she argues _hour_ after _hour_ after _hour_ with him.

Not about the best film in French cinema or the greatest writer who ever existed.

No.

She will argue for days on end to prove one thing: that she loves him more.

It's quite ridiculous, really, because they both know he's loved her the longest. And has put up with her crazy antics more. And lets her win more.

But it always ends with him surrendering, telling her that she's right: she loves him more.

(He does this because...well, he loves her more.)

**::**

It's the way he acts around kids—he turns into a kid himself.

She knows he was a dad to Milo, and knows he has a soft spot for children. But she continues to be caught off guard by his actions.

One time at a restaurant, their table was next to a family with a baby, and she caught him playing peek-a-boo with the little boy. She looked up to see Dan slyly hiding his face behind the menu before pulling it away quickly and causing the baby to erupt in a fit of giggles.

Another time, after watching a little girl trip in the park, he purposely tripped himself. His exaggerated groans stopped the girl's tears immediately, and Blair overheard him tell the child that now that they had matching scrapes on their knees, they were in a special club for the bravest people in the world.

She smiles whenever she thinks back to those moments.

And it usually ends with her daydreaming about their future family—but dreaming more about what Dan will be like as a dad than what their kids will look like.

**::**

It's the way she possesses his heart.

Because Blair Humphrey can be mighty possessive.

Whenever they're in public, she overuses the word "husband." Especially in front of other women.

(Like their wedding bands aren't enough of a signal that he's taken. _Or_ the fact that his gaze never sways from her gorgeous face.)

But even in the comfort of their own home—their own room, their own bed—she still will lean over, kiss his lips, pull away, and say: "I like that you're my husband. I like that you're mine."

And it usually ends with him saying back, simply, "And I like that _you're_ mine."

.

.

.

_end. (maybe)._

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><p><strong>AN: I'd love to hear your thoughts!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own GG or any of its characters.**

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><p>It's the way he hugs.<p>

Like Cyrus, he's a "hugger," and it took her a while to get used to it.

Nate was always sweet and careful with his affections: a chaste kiss on the cheek, a slip of his hand through hers.

Chuck was always the opposite: an inappropriately timed kiss on the lips, a smarmy grope in front of photographers.

But Dan...Dan was—and is—always the perfect balance. He both knows when it is the opportune time to scale back on the PDA or ramp it up. He knows that when her pregnancy fatigue is in full swing, her announcement of _"I'm going to bed...if you would like to join me"_ is not an invitation for sex.

But he also knows that when her hormones take over—making her want him _all_ the time—a little fun under the table at a boring dinner party is _more_ than okay.

So she deals with the hugs. In fact, she grows to love him.

Because it always ends with him catching her off guard, enveloping her into a warm loving hug, before dipping her to the ground and kissing her softly on the mouth.

**::**

It's the way she gets when they watch a horror film.

During really scary scenes, she'll start to tremble. Her eyes will squint (but she'll never fully close them.) She'll try to cover up her gasps. She'll find an excuse to refill the popcorn bowl or her glass of water as nonchalantly and as often as she can.

As the minutes go by, she slowly shifts closer to him inch by inch.

And no matter what, she _never_ takes up Dan's offer of "_How about a comedy tonight?" _Or: "_I'm in the mood for some romance, you?"_

Nope.

And so it always ends with him buying the scariest film in the store—no matter how mean it sounds—because he wants her as buried into his arms as much as possible, so he can reassure her that as long as he's there, she and their child are safe.

**::**

It's the way he gets when she's sick.

Even though it's just a common cold, he treats her as if she has pneumonia and mono and the measles all at once.

He blames his over-protectiveness on the fact that she's currently carrying their baby, but she knows that's a lie. When they were dating and she had strep throat, he did the exact same thing.

(He also does this cute thing where he's afraid to get in bed with her...as if he'll infect her or make her feel worse. But it's really the opposite, since she feels infinitely better every time he's near.)

He brings back the old-school trick of the hot water bottle beneath her feet. He places a brand new tissue box on the bedside table. He buys her every fashion magazine on the newsstands. He rents no less than twenty movies. He makes her homemade chicken noodle soup and _both_ hot cocoa and tea.

He's totally adorable and if possible, she loves him more.

And so it always ends with her pulling him into bed with her, so she can snuggle up next to him and get _him_ sick, so she can return the favor and have an excuse to stay in bed with her husband for the next three days.

**::**

It's the way she hums.

He noticed the habit when they first moved in together.

Whether she's putting on earrings, lathering her legs with lotion, or making the bed, she hums little melodies. At first, he found it a bit irritating. Simply because he was used to silence when he wrote and it was a little distracting.

But in truth...he finds it so damn adorable that it'd quickly become distracting in a _good _way.

Ever since her pregnancy started and her nesting habits have kicked in, her songs have changed from jazz numbers to lullabies she'll soon sing to their child.

So it always ends with him distracting _her_, by joining in. Humming against her shoulder, lips vibrating her skin, he does it until her breaths come too fast, her humming stops, and she's forced to turn around and meld her lips against his.

(Her hums turn into moans.)

**::**

It's the way he drives.

Blair figures that with a baby on the way, they will need a family car.

He's halfway through saying, _"I already have a—" _

"_Dangerous car? Yes," _she replies._ "Safe car? No."_

He happily obliges, though, and buys them a family-friendly SUV, perfect for weekend trips to the Hamptons or to Brooklyn.

And even though he does sweet things like kiss her knuckles or holds her hand while he's behind the wheel, she still teases him relentlessly about his driving since their disaster of a road trip years ago.

But it always ends with him reaching across the middle console every time he hits the breaks or every time a car cuts in front of them—a shield across her growing belly—melting her heart and proving once again, she's wrong.

**::**

It's the way she pretends not to be nervous about being a mom.

She's Blair Humphrey (née Waldorf) and she'll be great at everything, right?

It breaks his heart to watch her struggle internally. He watches as she casually covers all the outlets with plastic covers (even though they have the rest of her pregnancy and at least six months before the baby can crawl.) He watches as she switches out any piece of furniture with sharp edges for pieces with rounded ones. He watches as she pours over magazines and websites over which stroller they should buy.

He wishes she would just admit that she's a tad freaked out; that she's not prepared for _everything_ motherhood will throw her way. Because really...it's normal.

But he knows that won't happen.

So it ends with him signing them up for every baby class and making any decision at baby stores that makes her white with anxiety; all the while holding her hand and promising her that even if the only thing she does is love the baby with all her heart, she'll be the best mother that ever lived.

**::**

It's the way he shows her she's the most important thing in his world.

For starters, he always listens. On the fly one morning, she mentions that she isn't a fan of their bedroom wall color anymore. Waking up to the light yellow walls sometimes starts her day off with a blinding headache; she needs a calm, soothing color. One that the baby will find relaxing too.

When she comes home from work that day, he has painted the walls a serene blue.

He always notices her. Not in the sense that he can never take his eyes off of her form—no matter if she's in lingerie, an evening gown, or pajamas. But in the sense that even when they're having a conversation with other party guests, he'll squeeze her hand as if saying _I'm still thinking about you._

Yes, it's the little things he does.

And so it always ends with her waking him up in a way that has him groaning and fisting the sheets, as she shows him just how much she appreciates him...and how he's the most important thing in _her_ world as well.

**::**

It's the way her dream comes true.

You know. The one where he's a dad.

(To _her_ kid.)

Blair always assumed that he would want a son. He's a man and he had Milo, so it seemed natural to her for him to want a boy. Honestly, she was a little nervous when the doctor announced _"It's a Girl!"_

But she is wrong. Oh so wrong.

Because once their daughter comes into their life, he keels over with love for their little girl. He becomes master diaper-changer, swaddler, cuddler, daddy-extraordinaire. (He also becomes a baby-hogger, which she _should_ find annoying but instead finds completely lovable.)

Ella looks so tiny in his arms—like he can break her. But the way he cradles the newborn like a cocoon just shows Blair that he's actually the safest thing in the world to hold their child.

And so it ends just like that.

Actually, it begins just like that.

Because this is where the _two of us_ ends and the_ three of us_ begins.

**.**

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end.

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><p><strong>AN: Now it's complete.**

**I know it's super fluffy, but that's sort of the point of this fic...**

**I was both surprised & happy that this story was received back with such a warm welcome! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, & alerted. I have the best readers ever :) I've been away, which is why I haven't replied to each of you; but that's no excuse...I will respond soon! **

**How was this last chapter? I would love reviews!**


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